


Half-Baked

by jessalae



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: F/M, Mpreg, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>oven (n): a convenient witch-killing device; a place where one might find a bun</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Baked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [credoimprobus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/gifts).



> Dear credoimprobus: I had never felt the need to write mpreg until I saw your DYW letter, but your prompt for this fandom bit me and wouldn't let go. This was SO much fun to write. I hope you enjoy! :D Many thanks to P for betaing.

_The moss-covered rocks are warm from the sun, but not as warm as the water of the spring. He slides carefully along the bank, finding a place where the piled boulders form a natural seat, and lets himself relax. The warmth seeps into his tired muscles, easing the tension along his shoulders and the back of his neck, erasing the ache in his bruised arms._

_"You really look quite good like that, you know," she says. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were showing off."_

_Hansel cracks one eye open, then immediately shuts it against the glare of the late morning sun. "What, me? Never."_

_"There is such a thing as too much modesty, you know," she says. He can hear her push off the opposite wall of the spring and swim over to him. "You have incredible gifts. You should let the world see them." A slight swell in the water is the only warning he gets before her hand curls around his spent cock._

_He shudders and opens his eyes all the way. Mina is smirking. The beads of water on her skin sparkle like jewels; one clings to a few strands of her hair, a diamond on a copper chain. "I do what needs to be done," he says. "No more, no less."_

_She sighs. "It's a start, I suppose." She lets go of his cock and runs her fingers upwards over his thigh. "You're going to have to be more open with yourself, though. The way you were with me, when we were here." Her hand stops on his belly, resting over it in a strangely protective way. "She's going to need that."_

_"Who?" Hansel asks, but Mina is fading, her reflection in the water the last thing to disappear. The edges of the scene darken, the forest dwindling into nothingness, a shadow out of his memory._

Hansel blinks and scrubs at his face with the heel of his hand, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Then he bolts upright and shoves the bedroom door open with a bang, racing to the inn's outhouse just in time to be noisily sick to his stomach.

"What the _fuck_ ," he asks the chill morning air. 

***

The Mayor of Tannhausen is proving to be a hard sell, and Hansel wonders why Gretel is even bothering. They could walk out on this job any time, as far as he’s concerned. Let the Mayor call them back when a few more children have been eaten alive.

“If you’re going to have your militiamen involved, we’re going to need absolute authority over them,” Gretel is saying. “If they hesitate for even a second to follow my orders, they could end up getting all of us killed.”

“My militia answers to their captains,” the Mayor said stiffly.

“Then we work alone. No helpers.”

“Excuse me,” Hansel says, standing up and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Gretel asks.

“This is taking forever, and I need to piss,” Hansel says, and stalks out to use the outhouse.

When he gets back, Gretel and the Mayor have moved past the militia issue and on to the subject of witch-signs.

“If any suspect is captured, she should be burned immediately, before she can cause more damage,” the Mayor says.

“You start with that, you’ll be burning every woman in the village who ever snubbed her neighbors or rejected a suitor,” Gretel argues. “When tempers are this high in a town, people are too quick to accuse anyone they don’t like of witchery, with or without proof.”

Hansel’s on the Mayor’s side in this argument, but he’ll be in for a world of hurt if he shows any sign of it. He stares out the window into the pouring rain, watching the unpaved town square turn into one big puddle of mud. God, this place is a shithole.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s sick of listening to their negotiations, and his bladder is complaining again. He stomps back to the outhouse and listens to the rain drum on the wooden roof.

When he returns, they’ve _finally_ moved on to the subject of payment. The fucking Mayor is arguing about that too, of course.

“For one witch, and a weak one at that, your fees are exorbitant,” he says. His face has gotten redder and redder with every new turn in the conversation. “Tannhausen is a small town, and our crops were not as good this year as they have been in the past--“

“Hey, I wonder why that might be,” Hansel says sarcastically. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because of the fucking _witch_!”

The Mayor turns an even darker shade of red. He looks like a bearded tomato at this point. “I realize your services are valuable, but--“

“No,” Hansel snaps. “No buts. You pay us our fee, in cash, half up front. That’s the deal. Or we leave, and when you call us back after the witch makes a snack out of your pretty little daughter, we charge twice as much.” He picks up the little framed portrait of a girl with blonde pigtails from the Mayor’s desk and wings it at the man’s chest. “Even the most pathetic witch would gobble her up like a sweet bun.” 

Hansel turns on his heel and stomps off to the outhouse yet again. Damn this rain. He shouldn’t have had so much ale at lunch.

He steps back into the house to find Gretel and Ben waiting outside the Mayor’s office, signed contract in hand. “We get him?”

“Worked like a charm,” Gretel says, giving him a look. “You feeling all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re not usually up for helping in the negotiations,” Ben says.

Hansel shrugged. “The Mayor’s an idiot. I figured I’d end things sooner rather than later.”

“Also, you’ve gone off to piss four times in the last hour.”

“I must have drunk too much at lunch.”

“If you’re having troubles, I bet Gretel could fix you up with a potion or something,” Ben says brightly. “I’ve been looking through the book of spells, and there’s one that’s supposed to cure ailments caused by lying with dissolute women.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Hansel growls, “And I haven’t been lying with any dissolute women. Or any women at all.”

Gretel looks like she can’t decide whether she’d rather laugh or retch. “Ben has a point,” she says. “How are you going to stand being on a stakeout if you need the outhouse every fifteen minutes?”

“I’m a man! I can go against a tree if I have to.”

“All right.” Gretel shrugs and stows the contract away inside her bodice. “There’s a cave by the river I want to try first. Let’s go.”

***

“Well, that could hardly have been more disgusting,” Ben grouses. 

“Really? _You’re_ bitching?” Hansel asks incredulously. “ _I’m_ the one covered in pureed witch and swamp muck.”

“You can both quit bitching,” Gretel says. She tosses her hair, and a fat drop of blood and slime spatters onto Hansel’s face. “We’ll find a laundress and order baths when we’re back in town.”

A sidelong glance at her face convinces Hansel not to push it. They finish their trudge through the swamp in silence, except for the occasional squelching noise.

Back at the inn, sitting in his second tub of hot water (the first had turned from clean water to miniature swamp after five minutes), Hansel feels much more human. The laundress had whisked away his clothes with only a slight whimper of revulsion, and the irritating ache in the small of his back is nearly gone, thanks to the warm bath. He rests his head against the side of the tub and closes his eyes, just for a moment.

_“You shouldn’t be putting yourself at risk like this, you know.”_

_Hansel’s eyes shoot open. He’s in the same room at the same inn, but lying in bed, with no bathtub in sight. Mina is curled around him, wearing nothing but a linen shift. Her breasts press against his bare chest, her nipples clearly outlined against the thin fabric._

_“I don’t see how this is so risky,” he says, running a hand up her side. “Are you going to put a curse on me, or something?”_

_“You know what I mean,” Mina says impatiently. “You shouldn’t be going out and fighting, not in the state you’re in. Let Gretel and Edward handle the witches.”_

_Hansel frowns. The jobs they’ve had lately haven’t been any harder than usual, and his sickness is well under control. “You worry too much.” He eases the strap of Mina’s shift off her shoulder, presses a kiss to the side of her neck._

_Mina pushes his head away. “Stop that. I’m serious. You have more than just yourself to think about now. You should be out finding one of my sisters, for both your sake and Gretel’s. You’re going to need the support when the baby comes. Try in Ettelbruck.”_

_“You know, usually my dreams about women are more fun than this,” Hansel says, annoyed._

_Mina’s expression softens. “Another time,” she says, and kisses him softly. Hansel reaches up to put his arms around her, but she’s gone. He sighs and lets his head drop back on the pillow—_

And wakes in the bathtub, his head dropping below the water’s edge. He splutters and flails his way to his knees, splashing water all over the floor. The laundress squeaks and ducks out of the room, leaving his newly clean clothes in a heap by the door.

Hansel coughs up another few drops of water and shakes his head. “Strange fucking dream,” he mutters to himself.

He dries off with a blanket from the bed, then wriggles back into his clothes. His shirt is warm from drying in front of the fire, but for some reason it’s tight across his stomach. He tugs at the hem, grumbling about laundresses who don’t know their work. He shrugs into his vest and tries to do up the buckles at the front.

They won’t close.

He tugs harder. No matter how hard he tries, the bottom two buckles stay stubbornly un-buckled, and the front edges of the leather won’t meet over his stomach. He takes the vest off again and stares at it. Leather doesn’t shrink from improper washing. What the fuck is going on?

He steps out into the hallway, where a polished silver mirror hangs at the top of the stairs. He studies his reflection with growing horror, until he’s sure it isn’t just a quirk of the mirror or a trick of the light. His stomach is definitely rounder than before, sticking out in a peculiar way. 

His mind flashes back to his dream, and the nonsensical things Mina had said. His mouth goes dry.

“Gretel,” he shouts, his voice cracking. “I think we need to go find a white witch.”

***

They’re still two days away from Ettelbruck when the baby starts kicking.

***

“What the fuck,” Hansel says for the seventeenth time that morning. He’s laid out on the white witch’s table, shirtless and thoroughly uncomfortable, as the woman pokes carefully at his swollen belly.

“He’s barely said anything else since we left our last job,” Gretel says, rolling her eyes.

“How the fuck do you expect me to react?”

“With a little more dignity than this!”

“No, this is about normal,” the witch says. She had introduced herself as Johanna, then immediately ordered Hansel to strip down so she could examine him. “He’s reacting better than some, actually. There was one a few decades ago who threw a screaming fit on the floor when I gave him the good news.”

“This has happened before?” Hansel asks, pushing himself up on his elbows. Johanna gently pushes him back down again and continues her cautious exploration. The baby rolls over, punching right near Johanna’s fingers.

“Not often,” she says. “But occasionally. We have the ability to make the men we lie with carry our children, and sometimes my sisters will decide that bearing a child themselves would be too inconvenient. That doesn’t happen often, though,” she says, holding up a finger when Hansel growls. “The more common occurrence is when a witch’s power simply… gets away from her, in a moment of passion. She may not even know she’s done it.”

“Oh, she knows, all right,” Hansel mutters. “She’s been visiting my dreams and dropping hints for weeks.”

“She’s visited your dreams?” Johanna asks, frowning. “She must have been very powerful. It’s no wonder this happened, then.” She sets a hand on top of Hansel’s belly and starts undoing the buckle at the waistband of his pants.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Hansel says, sitting bolt upright and wincing at the twinge in his back.

“Lie down,” Johanna snaps, pushing him down gently again. “I’m going to need to see it all eventually — and fairly soon, from the looks of you.”

Hansel groans and lies back down. Inside his belly, the baby twists around, elbowing him thoroughly in the process.

“So this is something a witch would need to actively prevent?” Gretel asks nervously. “Are there other ways her powers can get away from her?”

“A few,” Johanna says, looking at her sharply. “I don’t think you need to worry about it right now, but you are badly in need of some training, my dear. You should have come to see me months ago — both of you should have.” She looks back down at Hansel, prods him once more in a very awkward place, then nods in satisfaction. “You seem to be in good shape, though, despite your lack of proper tending until now. You’ll just have to take it easy for the next couple of months.”

“Couple of months?” Hansel pushes himself up on his elbows. “We have to make a living, lady.”

“Not until this baby is born, you don’t,” Johanna says firmly. “Gretel needs training, and you need rest. You’ll stay here with me until spring, at least.”

“And if we don’t want to?”

Johanna’s eyes glow gold for a second, and a shimmer appears around the door of the house. “Until spring at least,” she repeats. “I promise you’ll be quite comfortable.”

Hansel sighs and lets his head drop back onto the table with a thunk. In protest, the baby lands a kick directly on his bladder.

***  
 _”You should have told me straight out,” Hansel says, glowering at Mina. He’s naked on Johanna’s kitchen table, but he doesn’t feel self-conscious or cold._

_“Would you have believed me?” Mina asks, raising an eyebrow at him._

_“Probably not,” he admits. “Still, you could have talked me around to it, instead of letting me find out like this.”_

_Mina pauses before answering, counting the current row of stitches in her knitting. She’s making a blanket out of fuzzy pink wool. Hansel wonders how she's going to give it to the baby from beyond the grave. Maybe Johanna has a spell to conjure bedding from the afterlife. “I would love nothing more than to be there for you, and to help you through this. But the way things are..." She looks up, and Hansel is surprised to see there are tears in her eyes. "It takes a huge amount of energy to visit you like this, and I can't control everything about how I appear. I thought it would be best to let someone else do the explaining, and use our dream-time just to be together."_

_"Mina..." Hansel starts, then trails off. His annoyance is gone, driven away by her tears. He becomes aware that his sleeping body is shifting, trying to find a more comfortable position. "It's kicking."_

_"She," Mina corrects. "It's going to be a girl. And a lively one, too, judging by how active she's been lately."_

_"How is this going to happen?" Hansel asks, blurting out his most pressing question. "I mean, I don't have--" He gestures expressively at the lower half of his body. "I’ve got the wrong damn equipment."_

_"That won't change," Mina assures him. She sets down her knitting and comes over to the table, resting a careful hand on his belly. "And you don't have to worry too much about that. Johanna knows what to do. When the time comes, just trust her and try to relax."_

_"Easy for you to say," Hansel grumbles. He tries to peer past his belly. "I haven't seen my cock in two months. It's a little worrying."_

_Mina slides her hand down his body. "Still there," she confirms with a smile. Hansel's breath catches in his throat as her fingers dance over him. "Would you like me to...?"_

_"Can we?" he asks. "I mean, it won't hurt the baby?"_

_"Not at all," Mina says. She plants a soft kiss on Hansel's stomach, then on his hip, working her way downwards. "If it calms you down, it might even help."_

_"Well, anything to help," Hansel says. After that, he stops talking for a while._

***  
If Hansel's being really honest, things aren't too bad at Johanna's cottage. She and Gretel won't let him do much, making Ben and Edward help out around the house instead. Hansel spends a lot of his time sitting in front of the fire, cleaning weapons and sketching out ideas for new ones. As soon as they're done here, he tells Gretel, they should head to one of the big cities and find an engineer and a blacksmith to make them some new gear.

" _If_ we're ever done here," Gretel mutters. She glares at the little clay flower pot in front of her. She's been trying to make these tulip bulbs sprout for two days now with absolutely no success.

"We will be. I don't give a shit if you can make flowers grow or not. Wouldn't it be better to work on your white-witching out on the road, anyway?"

"That's what I said, but as long as your little problem keeps us in one place, I might as well learn a few things." Gretel screws up her face, concentrating on the flowers again. Her eyes glow gold with effort, and still nothing happens. Hansel bursts out laughing. Gretel angrily lets out the breath she was holding. "What?"

"Sorry. You just look like you're trying to take a giant magical crap."

Gretel rolls her eyes. "Very mature. You're going to be a great mother."

It starts to snow without warning at the beginning of December, blanketing the cottage with a thick layer of sparkling white powder. Living in a four-room cottage with three other humans and a troll doesn't do much to improve Hansel's mood. After a week, Edward elects to start sleeping in the barn to get away from him, and Ben is literally walking on tiptoes wherever he goes, which Hansel finds deeply annoying. Only Gretel and Johanna don't seem to pay any extra care to not pissing him off.

"Do you mind?" he snaps when Gretel moves his rocking chair a few feet to the left so she can practice calling pictures in the fire.

"Not really," she says calmly. "You'll overheat if you sit too close, anyway."

Hansel glowers and picks up the barrel of the disassembled gun he's been cleaning, hooking it back onto the grip with a loud click.

"Shouldn't be long now," Johanna says mildly, giving Gretel a significant look. Hansel chooses to ignore her.

It's the middle of a long, snowy, boring afternoon when the first contraction hits. Hansel grunts in surprise and pain, and Johanna looks up from the stew she's making and stares directly at his belly.

"Here we go," she says, handing her spoon to Ben. "Keep stirring every few minutes. This won't take long."

Hansel is breathing hard through gritted teeth. Johanna helps him out of the chair and clears the kitchen table with a wave of her hand. Onion skins and carrot tops fly into a bowl, which moves itself next to the door; one rag soaks itself in water from a pitcher and wipes down the surface of a table, followed by a second, dry rag to mop up the excess water. Hansel hoists himself onto the newly cleaned wood and pauses to catch his breath as another contraction hits.

"Shouldn't you be saving that magic to help me out?" he asks, grimacing.

"You're going to do just fine," she says. "Now, out of those clothes."

She orders Gretel to build up the fire, then balls up Hansel's shirt and puts it under his head for a pillow. Hansel closes his eyes and lets the waves of pain from his abdomen wash over him, feeling them get stronger and stronger as the minutes tick by. His timekeeper whirrs, and Johanna passes him his syringe, then goes back to bustling around the room and prodding his belly every once in a while.

"Fuck!" A particularly savage pain rips through Hansel, bringing tears to his eyes. "Fuck shit fucking goddamn."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Johanna says.

"Why the fuck do women do this?" Hansel gasps. "Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_."

"It'll all be worth it soon." Johanna positions herself at the end of the table and gently moves Hansel's legs apart, bending his knees. Her hands start to shimmer with gold light. "Now close your eyes, and when I say so, push."

Hansel does as instructed, his hands gripping the edges of the table so hard his fingers ache. "God fucking damn you, Mina," he growls, hoping she can hear him all the way in the afterlife. Then Johanna tells him to push, and he bears down instinctively, his muscles contracting in an unfamiliar way. There's a sharp pain between his legs, then a strange tingling sensation, and suddenly the pressure is gone. Hansel swears one more time for good measure and opens his eyes carefully.

Ben, still stirring the pot over the fire, is ashen-faced; Gretel looks both fascinated and disturbed, and Johanna is smiling proudly. There's something cradled in her arms, dark pink and squashed-looking and wrapped in a clean piece of cloth. As Hansel watches, trying to register what he's seeing, the bundle opens its toothless little mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wail.

"Congratulations," Johanna says, passing Hansel his daughter. He holds her awkwardly, making sure to support her head when Johanna and Gretel both nag him to. Her eyes are brown, she's completely bald, and her whole body is a blotchy kind of red color. Hansel has never seen anything more beautiful.

Later, when he's washed off the sweat and gingerly made his way upstairs to the bed, he watches the baby sleep in the cradle on the floor next to him. She yawns, her tongue curling out past her toothless gums, and he smiles, then yawns himself. He lets his head drop onto the pillow, succumbing to exhaustion.

_"Pleased with yourself?" Mina asks. She's sitting at the foot of the bed, holding the baby with much more ease than Hansel has yet._

_"I think I did a damn good job," Hansel says._

_"She is a lovely little thing," Mina says. "Have you decided what to name her?"_

_"I was thinking about Adrianna."_

_Mina nods. "I like it."_

_The baby whimpers in her sleep and opens her eyes. She stares up at Mina, seeming to take in every detail of her face. Mina kisses her on the forehead._

_"Is she still asleep outside the dream-world?" Hansel asks._

_"For now. She's dreaming with us. She'll be awake in a few hours, though." Mina brushes the baby's cheek with her finger, and her little head turns towards the touch, her mouth opening. "And she'll be hungry."_

_Hansel blinks. "How am I supposed to feed her, exactly?"_

_"Johanna will help you. This dream is running out of time." Mina sighs and sets the baby down. "I just wanted to see her. I'll be back for a longer visit when I've built up some more energy."_

_Hansel lies back down, feeling drained even in his sleep. "See you soon, then."_

_"Are you trying to sleep while you're asleep?"_

_"I just pushed a fucking child out of my fucking body, which isn’t even designed for it. What have you done today?"_

_"Too hard to explain. I'll let you rest." Hansel feels the mattress shift as Mina stands, and the soft press of her lips on his cheek. Then she's gone, and the dream fades away to the blissful darkness of sleep._

Less than thirty minutes later, Adrianna shits herself, and her crying fills the house. 


End file.
